


simple maths

by sorrow_key



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Blackwing Angst, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Identity Issues, Relationship Study, Season 2 spoilers, Speculation, Unhealthy Relationships, basically me making sense of how much ken has changed, names are important
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 17:38:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13058877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorrow_key/pseuds/sorrow_key
Summary: “Is a weapon such a bad thing to be, Marzanna? You can help, you can fix things. Provided,” he raises an eyebrow, “you kill the right people.”“And who’s that supposed to be? You?” she asks dully and rises from her chair, stalking from side to side. The image of a captive predator.“No,” he says emphatically, remaining still and stoic. “But I can help you find them.”(two wrongs equal an even bigger wrong.)





	simple maths

**Author's Note:**

> biology class is the perfect time for inspiration, no kidding
> 
> (totally didn't tear up typing this up)

“You know, Ken,” she says, with out of the blue solemnity, “I’ve been thinkin’. About what I said to you, I was wrong.”

He pauses, taking a miniscule moment to change tracks from indulging her in a song’s refrain and vague promises of more if he has the time (if she becomes useful) while already planning several moves ahead to stay on the top he’s climbed, to rise even further.

He gets the feeling this might be serious, this might be a break-though - or it might be nothing. Marzanna rarely delivers useful information and Bart has said a lot of things to him. They’ve ranged from comically absurd to sentimental and he has interest in neither of those.

Still, he knows better than to act like it’s anything less than important; Marzanna reacts well to positive reinforcement. Carrot and stick, carrot and stick.

If he ends up miraculously finding time for her when she does good and the things he allows her break when she doesn't, then that's just how it is.

All it takes is to re-enact the faces he used to make. It’s easier than anything in the world - it’s the hardest part of his position. That person seems like a stranger to him, so naive, so ignorant of the bigger picture.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“Remember when I told you about what I did?” She looks at him from behind waves of her hair and he nods, shifting his stance to something more open, more friendly, carefully noting her use of past tense.

“Of course,” he answers. “You’re guided by the universe to kill people who deserve it.” He allows a fond, nostalgic smile. “I haven’t forgotten anything. Your words changed my life. _You_ changed my life, Marzanna.”

Her feral eyes glint with wistful sadness - the sadness that seems as old as time and swallows her more and more. “My name is Bart,” she says and it’s an accusation.

It’s groundless and he knows it - he thinks she does too. After all, despite everything, she's still here and he still lives.

He smiles placatingly. “Of course, that was your name.”

For a moment, she looks like she might just kill him. But as it passes, she just looks tired, drained. “You’ve really changed, Ken.”

He doesn’t reply. There’s nothing to say.

“What were you wrong about?” he asks instead and wonders briefly, if she’ll say him.

Marzanna pauses to think, her head tilted to the side. With her narrowed eyes and rusty hair, she looks wild and fey as ever.

“‘m not a leaf or a piranha or anything like that. All I am is a puppet, a weapon. And Ken…” She stares into him, intense and true, and it almost takes his breath away. “I’m not sure there’s anything I can do about it, if I want to or not.”

Well, he hadn’t expected that. Not entirely. He re-crosses his legs and leans forward, steely but imploring.

“Is a weapon such a bad thing to be, Marzanna? You can help, you can _fix_ things. Provided,” he raises an eyebrow, “you kill the right people.”

“And who’s that supposed to be? You?” she asks dully and rises from her chair, stalking from side to side. The image of a captive predator.

“No,” he says emphatically, remaining still and stoic. “But I can help you find them.”

Her expression turns flat and still and when she speaks, it’s with surety as ancient as life itself. “You’re not the universe, Ken.”

“I know,” he says. “I know.”

And he does. He’s not like her, not constant and untouchable, and neither is anything in his life. But if there’s one thing he’s learned, it’s that the tools of the universe can be understood, can be controlled - and if so, why not the universe itself?

So he tries to tell her, as best as he can, because she. She’s the one it started with, for him. She’s the one who will help him, because if she won’t kill him - and she won’t, then that’s all that’s left for her.

“You know, Marzanna,” he says and for the first time in ages has to bite back ‘Bart’, “I was wrong too, back then.”

She plunges back into her seat. “What’re you talkin’ about, Ken?”

“Not the part about you being a killer angel,” he says with a secret smile, “but it’s true. The way I was back then, I was holding you back. But now - now I have ressources. I can help you.” He reaches out to touch her hand, knowing exactly how lacking in human contact she is - even before he controlled her environment or read the files, it had been glaringly obvious, though it no longer moves or terrifies him.

“ _We_ can help you be more efficient.”

She looks at his hand like she doesn’t entirely comprehend what it’s doing there.

“I don’t need to be more efficient,” Marzanna says, her voice heavy with sadness - and was that regret? She rubs circles into his palm. “And you didn’t hold me back, Ken. Like, you did, but it was good. It was so good, Ken.”

“I have to go now,” he says, impersonal and cold, and tears his stinging hand away. “Goodbye, Marzanna.”

And behind him, the lights turn off as he leaves her with her cracked voice and the cracked knowledge that the one who ever made her want to be more than a weapon became the one keeping her one and the cracked memories of a stupid guy who thought he’d found what he was supposed to do, a stupid guy who no longer existed.

And if his throat is closing up, then it’ll go away as he gives his orders, because Supervisor Adams has a job to do.


End file.
